The Mushrooms at The Forest's Edge

1: The Cats' Favorite Forager

When I was just a baby, I got sick very easily. Always down with a fever, could never stop crying. It scared the village, fearing that the creatures in the woods would hear my cries and come into their homes at night. It wouldn't be for a long few years that I would stop being sick all the time. My momma said it was a miracle. The village medicine lady said it was the mushrooms they fed me.

But a few short weeks after I turned seven-- and this I remember-- I got sick again. Worst of it all, this time around. They feared it was a plague. I was pale as the moon, running hot enough to warm their tea cups, and I was always throwing up.

They had tried everything to get me better. Mushrooms, roots, odd concoction soups and teas. Nothing stayed down, and nothing broke my illness. They isolated me afterwards, to protect the others, and let me die in peace. But that didn't happen.

No, the day they isolated me, all the cats in the area went missing. Nobody could find a single one, not even the ones taken in as a pet. Until they looked into the small little hut I was in, where they saw me, covered entirely with cats. Purring up a storm, licking me, refusing to leave my side. They didn't know what to think of it, and so they left me be.

I slept through most of it, after that. But after a week, maybe a bit longer, I got better. The fever broke, I could eat again, and I stopped crying. The cats brought me mushrooms to fill my stomach before I joined the rest of the village. Morels, I remember clearly. Imagine the surprise everyone had, watching the child left to die walk back into the village, suddenly healed and with all the village cats following her as though she was their goddess. My parents cried, held me like I was a baby again. The medicine lady was astounded, and the village elders gathered and whispered, keeping their words to only what they could hear.

I never did get sick again, after that. Even when everyone else was down with horrid illness, I remained healthy. And the cats never really stopped following me, either. It's not so obvious now, because they don't all follow me at once, but they all come to see me. It's an odd honor, but they saved my life, so I don't mind it.

Mushrooms also became a focus of mine after that. I wanted to know everything about them. How they grew, the kinds and their purposes, which ones were food or medicine, and which ones were deadly. The medicine lady was pleased to have someone to teach, and the foragers– numbers dwindling as they were– were happy to have another among them. I learned very quickly, too, which they enjoyed until my curiosity went beyond their knowledge.

I was not allowed out to forage alone. Still too young at the time, and too much to learn. And the woods, as I was always reminded, were hungry. They take foragers out with friends the least, it's harder to trick two or more than just one. So when I went foraging so young, I always had at least one escort. It kept everyone safe.

As I've grown older, the numbers dwindled. Foragers went missing more often every year, and many were afraid to learn the profession. I can't blame them, of course, but it has made things more difficult. Now, the few foragers left all go out with the hunting parties. It's protected those of us left for these last few years, but the woods have become more hostile. The cats are growling at whatever really lies in there more and more frequently, especially when I'm around the edge.

Though I've tried to ask the elders, they tell me nothing. As they do everyone else. The elders, supposed to be a pillar of knowledge, are silent as their people are dying.

My teeth grind as I sit on the bench outside of my home, buckling up my foraging gear. I have a bad feeling about going out today, and clearly the cats do as well, since they keep trying to pull off my shoes and stop me from moving. The pit in my stomach grows. This isn't good.

I hushedly talk to them, saying that I'm going to the medicine lady first. They seem to calm for the moment, and follow behind me as I walk. It's been a long time since I had a group like this follow me, and it draws attention. And chatter. It makes me bristle, but I just keep walking. Out towards the edge, but just safe enough. An extra large patch of mushrooms grows near her hut, so she's the least likely to deal with the woods creatures.